


Muggle in the Meantime

by AlocYrrehc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alone on Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, DA Make the Yuletide Gay, Discord: Dumbledore's Armada, Found Family, FoundFamilyMakeTheYuletideGay, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlocYrrehc/pseuds/AlocYrrehc
Summary: After a curse leaves Harry Potter temporarily without magic, he prepares to spend Christmas alone in Romania. His friends, however, won't hear of it.
Relationships: Theodore Nott & Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11
Collections: DA's Found Family - Make The Yuletide Gay





	Muggle in the Meantime

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [KrysKrossZee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysKrossZee/pseuds/KrysKrossZee) in the [FoundFamilyMakeTheYuletideGay](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FoundFamilyMakeTheYuletideGay) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Character A can't go home for the holidays because (insert reason here) but finds that they are not alone. Character B (&C etc) make this the most special Christmas.
> 
> Thank you to @LostInThought for the alpha/beta. 
> 
> Thank you to Cari and Steph for the extra reads.

#  Muggle for a Day 

It was ten pm on Christmas Eve, and no lights were on at number four, Privet Drive. The only indication anyone might be awake came from the shifting blue light drifting out the window of the second largest bedroom.

Dudley Dursley lay in his bed, mindlessly flipping through channels in his childhood home when his cell phone chimed. The message was short, his response even shorter. Dudley resumed his previous pattern, _click, breathe, breathe, click,_ but stopped after only three iterations. Careful not to wake his parents, he left his room and crept down to the living room. Standing in front of the hearth, he opened a distinctly Petunia-ish decorative urn, removed a handful of the green shimmering powder concealed within, and stepped into the opening. Looking around, as if worried someone might see him standing in the fireplace, he said three words before dropping the powder at his feet and disappearing in a plume of green flames.

**Earlier, outside Transylvania**

Harry woke with his ears ringing, his head pounding, and a mouth full of sand. Awash in a sea of white, he groped for his glasses, realizing he must be in a hospital. A smiling Mediwitch waved her wand over his body to run a diagnostic spell, before handing him a glass of milk.

“To help with the suppression potions. They’re a bit gritty, no getting around that.” She said, empathetically.

The milk helped pull most of the sand from his mouth, and when it felt clear enough for speech he asked, “What happened, exactly?”

Ziggy Birdwhistle, the Senior Auror on the mission, stepped in as Harry finished his question, responding, “You saved Fermi, that’s what happened. Pushed him out of the way of a nasty _magico cadere_ , but you didn’t quite get your shield up in time.”

The Mediwitch shuddered. “Nasty one, that curse. It eats away at you anytime you use magic, hence the need for the suppression potions. You are not to do nor come into contact with any magic, outside of the potions, of course. You’ll need to take these,” she held up two different sized turquoise vials, whose contents reminded Harry of quicksand, “for the next seven days. This one,” she held up the larger of the two “must be taken every hour on the hour during waking hours. Two drops will suffice, but do not skip a dose. The consequences would be unimaginable.This one, two spoons before bed and one immediately upon waking. It only lasts eight hours, so set an alarm.”

Harry nodded taking in all the information.“Right. So, can I be going then? I’ll miss my portkey home.”

Ziggy cleared his throat, and the Mediwitch had the decency to look chagrined when she answered. “I’m sorry, Auror Potter, but you can’t come into direct contact with magic, at all. You can’t hold your wand, and much less use a Portkey or Floo Powder. It could cause permanent magic loss.”

Harry looked at her in disbelief. “So… I’m a muggle for a week?”

“Better a muggle for a week than a muggle for life,” she replied lightly.

Harry, who’d spent eleven years thinking he was a muggle, felt suddenly ill. “But it’s Christmas Eve! I’ll never make it home in time for Christmas if I have to travel the muggle way.”

His superior finally spoke up. “Well, Harry, I’ve extended the stay at the safe house for you, and I’m happy to stay with you until you can return…”

“No, no. Go home, be with your children. It’s fine,” Harry said, even though it was not fine. He took the perfectly muggle bag which held his wand and potions, and followed Ziggy down to the lobby. “I took your per diem and converted it to muggle money. Erm, you know how to use this paper stuff, right?” Harry nodded, chuckling as the two men went their separate ways.

Harry asked the cabbie to drop him a few blocks from the safehouse. It was in a wizard part of town, and he wasn’t sure if the muggle driver could find it. It occurred to Harry as he let himself into the safehouse using a key rather than his wand; he hadn’t told Birdwhistle to contact anyone from home. He thought about calling for muggle takeaway but decided against braving the rain again, instead settling for some cheese, an apple and a chunk of day-old bread. It would likely take an owl at least five days to get back to London, but he wrote a short note to Mrs. Weasley anyway. He’d probably beat the owl home, but she would worry nonetheless.

The clock in the hall chimed the twelfth time as Harry finished his nightly rituals. As he crawled under the blankets, he remembered his cell phone. Harry wasn’t usually one for texting, but eventually he managed a quick message. “Stuck in Romania for a week. Can’t use magic, can’t even Floo. Will explain when I get home. Happy Christmas.” And sent it to the only contact in his phone.

He was already dreaming of Theo when a single letter glowed from the screen: ‘K.’

________

Harry woke the next morning certain he was still dreaming; how else could he explain the arms wrapped around him? But when his alarm chirped and the voice that matched the arms grumbled, “turn that blasted thing off, Potter.” Harry sat upright and stared at the blurry form of Theodore Nott in bed beside him. Alarm momentarily forgotten, Harry ran his fingers through Theo’s thick, sandy colored hair. “You’re really here?”

“Yes, Potter, we’ve established I’m really here.” He sat up, wrapping his arms around Harry and peppering kisses across his neck, to his ear. “I will, however, break up with you if you don’t turn off that bloody alarm and come back to bed.”

Quickly obliging his lover, Harry took care of the alarm and returned to Theo’s strong arms. “Did I dream you into existence?”

“Does this feel like dreaming?” Theo asked, his hands roving across the hard planes of Harry’s chest.

“Mmm, it felt like dreaming last night, when you climbed into bed and started doing deliciously dirty things to me...” Harry purred.

Theo couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “As if your vanilla Gryffindor subconscious could dream up anything half as degenerate.”

The rest of the morning was spent in a haze of groping kisses and prolonged ecstasy, until, finally sated, Harry asked in earnest, “But how did you get here?”

“I could tell you, or I could just show you,” Theo answered cryptically. “We should probably make ourselves presentable first, though.”

Once clean and dressed in jeans and Christmas jumpers, Theo led Harry down the stairs and into the living room, which was filled with considerably more Christmas decorations and Weasleys than it had been the night before.

“Oh, happy Christmas, Harry dear. Theo,” Mrs. Weasley smiled as she caught sight of them on the stairs. Alerted to his presence, a gaggle of Weasleys turned to greet him.

“How…”

“Oh Harry,” Molly started. “Did you really think we’d let you spend Christmas alone in Romania?”

“Birdwhistle spoke to you, then?”

“Uh, no, Harry,” Harry turned to see his cousin sitting on a long couch with, unbelievably, Pansy Parkinson in his lap, Draco Malfoy to his right, and Petunia and Vernon Dursley on his left. “That was me,” Dudley continued.

Harry turned accusingly to Theo, who was barely suppressing a mouth full of laughter. “You said I wasn’t dreaming. Am I dead?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Theo. “Did you drug me?”

Dudley whispered something to Pansy, who removed herself from his lap and resumed her animated conversation with Mrs. Dursley as Dudley stood up from his seat “I got your message.”

“Yeah, no, I got your response. ‘K?’ Since when does ‘K’ mean ‘Okay, I’ll contact every wizard you know and set up an incredibly expensive last minute, international portkey in the middle of the night?’” Though his volume had increased with every word, Harry wasn’t angry, rather, increasingly overwhelmed as he thought of what Dudley must have gone through to orchestrate the scene playing out in front of him. “How did you even know where to begin?”

“Well, it started with me, darling,” Theo drawled in his most theatrical tone. “Your cousin Flooed to my place just as Pansy, Draco and I were settling for a night of debauchery. Imagine everyone’s surprise when we found out Pansy’s new beau is not only a muggle, but also your cousin!”

Harry sat down.

“After I sorted out that Pans is a witch and all, I told them we needed to bring Christmas to you.” Dudley’s gaze turned to the floor, “I know how much this Christmas meant to you, Harry. I didn’t want you to spend it alone.”

Last Christmas, Petunia contacted Harry after a brief, but ultimately victorious fight with breast cancer. She confided how she had wished for her sister, and realized she had shoved away the closest connection to Lily she had. Slowly, he and Petunia, then Dudley, and finally Vernon had reconciled. This was to be their first Christmas together since before Hogwarts.

Harry stood and hugged his cousin for probably the first time in their lives. “Thank you, Dudley. I – I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” The two men parted with surreptitious sniffs and swipes at their eyes as Molly announced brunch was ready.

Harry hung back with Theo and watched as Teddy and Victoire, as well as George and Angelina’s twins, Freddie and Jane, piled plates high. Bill and Fleur sat at a low table with Andromeda and Hermione, who kept stealing furtive glances at the pointy blonde on the couch. Charlie teased Harry ‘Thought I’d be spending the holidays away from Romania,’ before returning to his wife, a fellow dragon wrangler named Zelma with more burns and scars than the rest of them combined. As neither Ron nor Ginny was seeing anyone seriously enough to bring them on a last-minute, international Christmas brunch, they sat together once again arguing over England’s line up for the Quidditch Cup. His aunt and uncle, though timid around the Weasleys, whose unrestrained enthusiasm for life was a bit too much for the buttoned up Dursleys to handle, were deep in conversation with Pansy and Dudley.

“Pansy and Dudley, eh?” Harry mused.

Theo put an arm around Harry, resting his head on the shorter wizard’s shoulder. “In a bizarre way, it kind of makes sense? They’re both the biggest bully around. I’ll say this, though, the way Pans’ been talking, I think she really likes him.”

“How did they even meet?”

“I didn’t catch the whole story, but it had something to do with too much firewhiskey and a quest to find a sandwich and chips from some bloke named McDonald.”

“Ah. And how’d you manage to drag Draco along?”

Theo snorted. “He paid for the international portkeys. Woke up a very irate member of the Department of Magical Transportation and offered him an obscene amount of money, plus box seats for the rest of the Holyhead Harpies games this season, if he’d set them up for us right away. You know he’s trying to buy goodwill with Granger.”

“Merlin, for two supposedly smart people…”

“Honestly. Maybe we should accidentally lock them in the bedroom.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Ooo, pick that one up from Granger, did you? And anyway, it's one of the things you love about me, darling.”

They stood, content to watch as second helpings were served, dishes were cleared, and presents started zooming across the room in every direction. “Do you think it will always be like this?” Harry asked.

“I hope so.”

“Will you marry-”

“Marry me-”

They separated, laughing at each other. “Theodore James Nott, will you marry me?”  
“Only, Harry James Potter, if you’ll marry me.”


End file.
